Facade (9 page)

“Condom?”
  We’ve never come this close to having sex without protection, and I’m not ready for something like that.  I really hope this isn’t what he was meaning in our little game.  It’s far too intimate and I can’t guarantee he’s been faithful in whatever this relationship is.

“I’ve only been with you
; I’m clean and you’re on birth control.”  He pulls at my hips again, but I still don’t budge.

“Condom,” I state, no longer a question.

He starts to say something else while pulling at my hips and I try to back away.  I’ve seen this go wrong too many times; birth control isn’t always effective, people are only clean until they aren’t and I clearly remember a very attractive blonde at his home a few months ago.  I’m not stupid nor am I going to
start
being stupid.

Jacoby lets out a long breath and lifts up, I assume to attempt to fuck me.  I move to smack him across the face for disregarding my
health and safety, until he puts an arm behind him and pulls out his wallet.

“Condom,” he says, pulling the foil package out of his wallet.

In a matter of seconds, he’s sheathed in latex and I’m back to the point of no return.  I slowly lower myself onto his cock, relishing the feeling it shoots straight to the tips of my toes.  My back to the desk, I brace my arms on the cool wood for leverage, stroking him with my pussy.

He unbuttons the rest of the coat, baring me to him, but keeping me concealed to anyone that might have a key to enter.
  The thought of anyone having a key, coming in the office to catch us, sends a trill of excitement to my core as I clench around his thickness.  I’m not sure if it’s the fantasy of an office rendezvous or that he doesn’t want me to be completely nude, but this entire scenario is beyond sexy. 

Jacoby pulls the cups of my bra down
. Pushing my tits higher and firmer, he flicks his tongue at one of the taut peaks.  I lean back, my spine uncomfortable against the hardness until Jacoby snakes an arm around my midsection, cushioning me from the brutal and relentless, but oh so delicious friction, as he meets me thrust for thrust.  I take my tits in my hands, massaging the soft tissue and playing with the hardened nubs.  The deep growl coming from Jacoby’s throat turns me on even more. 

Lifting me,
he sits me on the edge of the desk, still continuing his attack on my overly sensitive body, not willing to let up even while in motion.  I’m waiting for the clichéd wiping the papers off the surface, but it never comes.  Jacoby takes both of my hips in his hands, keeping me from shifting too much, and begins the most glorious assault I’ve ever experienced.

Every time his pelvis rubs against my clit,
a shiver tingles down my spine and he pushes me higher and higher.  He pulls almost all the way out of my body before slamming back into me. My head falls back and Jacoby comes forward with a grunt that reverberates through my entire body, shattering me in his arms. 

I’m guessing my moans are pretty loud, judging by the massive hand covering my mouth to muffle my cries. 
There are a few more shallow thrusts before Jacoby’s body goes rigid and his teeth clench down on my collar bone, almost sending me spiraling yet again. 

Unfortunately, his phone makes a few quick beeps and I hear Tiffany’s voice come across the intercom.

“Mr. Roberts, your eleven thirty is here.  Shall I send him back?” 

I try to pace my breathing and Jacoby’s stifling his laughter.  He takes a few moments before he responds to her request.

“I’ll meet him in the conference room in five minutes.  Thank you, Tiffany.”  He pushes a button and ends the line of open communication. 

I sit up as Jacoby pulls away from my body and disposes of the used condom inside of a tissue. 

“We almost got busted,” I laugh, unable to control it any longer.

“That would not have been good.  Can you imagine my next board meeting?”  Both of us
are laughing uncontrollably, and I have to remind him he has a visitor and needs to get cleaned up. 

Luckily, there’s an attached bathroom in his office.  He does a quick job of making
himself look presentable and not recently fucked.  I can’t say the same.  I try to tame my hair and fix my coat, but the flushed color that’s taken over my skin proves that everything else was done in vain. 

“I can walk you back unless you need to stay a few more minutes to calm down,” Jacoby offers, staring down my body through the opening at the top of my coat, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and letting out a hiss. 
I need to get out of here before he misses his meeting.

“Your job is safe, Miss Anderson.  I’m even considering a promotion.”  He kisses the top of my head and makes his way out of the office.  I wait a few more minutes, deciding to just throw my hair in a quick ponytail to disguise our afternoon delight before I make my way back to the reception area.

I finally find my way, only making two wrong turns, but I make it.  As I open the first set of glass doors, I see Tiffany bent over in front of Jacoby, offering him what looks like coffee.  He doesn’t appear to be giving her any attention and I mentally slap the shit out of her and tell her to step off my man. 

Wait, my man?  Shit.

On my drive home, all I can think about is the instant pang of protectiveness over Jacoby I’d just experienced.  Maybe once I tell him why we can never be anymore than we are, he can just agree to be monogamous without those nasty titles that always bring things crashing down around you. 

At least, I hope that will be the outcome of said conversation.

CHAPTER NINE

Jacoby

My meeting goes over smoothly, however, it was the longest I’ve spent with this client in the three years I’ve been working with him.  He’s looking into developing a new hotel just off The Strip in Las Vegas.  I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t be an exciting opportunity, but Vegas is one of those towns that the new guy can’t just break into; he’d have to have connections.  We’ll play this one by ear, even though I’m nearly positive how it will turn out.

I’m in my office getting ready to leave for the day when the memories of earlier this morning come rushing back to me.  I pick up my phone and shoot her a quick text.

Me – I’m heading home for the day.  Come over?

Kylee – Sure.
  C  U in an hour.

The instant response is a vast improvement from last night’s messages that still haven’t been answered.  I really do see a future with this girl.  She’s kind, beautiful, intelligent and witty.  Kylee
truly is the complete package.  Well, except for whatever hangup she has with dating or relationships of any kind. Oh yeah, and the fact that I’ve violated her trust.  I need to find a way to fix this before I lose her. 

Usually when I’m with Kylee, we end up in bed
for a while and then one or the other goes home, depending on whose bed we’re in that night.  Tonight, I want to try something a little different.  We’ve already done the romantic date thing, which was wonderful, and the smile on her face while we were in that carriage still makes me happy that I was the cause of it.  I need to show her what being in an actual relationship is like, not that I’ve had many, but I’ve been in enough to know the deal.

I make a quick call home to Taylor to check in. 

“Hey, what are you plans for the night?”

“There’s a party on campus.  I’m probably going to stop in and have a few drinks.  Why?” 

“I’m planning something for Kylee and wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna be there,” I snap, unintentionally.

“Well, aren’t
you
in a pleasant mood?  Who pissed in
your
Cheerios this morning?”

“You know what I mean, don’t be like that.  I’m sorry and I’ll see you tomorrow.”  I end the call, shove the phone in my pocket and quickly make my way through the office toward the elevator, keeping my head down as to not get caught in any conversations. 

I fly out of my office, knowing I have a few stops to make before I expect Kylee.  I’m home with a little more than twenty minutes to spare.  After I put an already prepared chicken parmesan into the oven, I opt for a quick shower. 

I wash and dry quickly since I’m running short on time.  Looking in the mirror, I wish I would have done
so
before
my shower, as my face could use a quick once-over with the razor. 

Screw it, Kylee likes my facial hair.

I throw on a pair of loose fitting jeans and a white tee shirt, and as soon as I round the corner into the kitchen, trying to check on dinner, my doorbell rings.

My bare feet slap against the tiled floor as I make my way to welcome my visitor.  When the door opens, she takes my breath away.  Absolutely beautiful doesn’t even describe her. 
Stunning’s a better word, but still not enough.

Standing on my porch is an angel.  I take her in, looking up and down her form, feeling my erection
pushing tight against my jeans.  Knee high black heeled boots cover the tightest pair of jeans known to man; I’m sure they must be painted on.  She’s bundled in a white coat that stops at her midsection.  Kylee’s hair is being whipped around by the wind and small snowflakes have made their home on top of her head. 

Remembering my manners, I open the door wide enough for her to enter
, but narrow enough where she has to slide by me.  I wrap my arm around her waist and spin her so I can see her face.  Once she’s in the light of the foyer, I see another snowflake’s landed on her eyelash.  Putting my lips to her eye, I kiss it gently, feeling the coolness of the flake and the flutter of her lashes.  I lean down further into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet perfume and kiss her jaw.

“You look breathtaking,” I whisper, trailing a few more kisses onto her neck.

“The bare feet are sexy as hell,” she says, suppressing a moan.

Okay, I need to take a step
back, this is not where I want this night to go.  Well, it
is
how I want the night to end, but I want to give her another great memory and some ammo to use against her when I bring up our relationship status.

“Come in, dinner’s
just about ready.  Glass of wine?”  I usher her further into the foyer, taking her jacket and hanging it on the hook.

“Yes, please, that sounds good.  What’s for dinner?” she asks, taking in the enticing smells of a home cooked meal.  “It smells Italian.”  Kylee runs her tongue across her bottom lip.

“Chicken Parm.  Wine?”  Kylee nods accepting the freshly poured glass of wine from my hand and walks into the kitchen.  Instead of sitting at one of the barstools at the breakfast bar, she hops up on the counter and takes a sip from her glass.

Her jeans have ridden down and the yellow lace of her panties is creeping its way to the surface.  I’m trying to finish preparing our dinner and not look in her direction, but
fuck
does she make it hard.  Every time she leans her head back to take a drink of her wine, she exposes her neck, and all I want to do is lick it from the little dip between her collar bone up to her mouth and taste her tongue coated with the sweet white zin. 

Every time she shifts on the granite countertop, more and more of the lace appears, not leaving much to the imagination.  She leans forward to smell the food and the cleavage being shoved together by the matching yellow lace bra under the cream
-colored fitted shirt summons me. 

I almost give in and reach out to her, but I refocus my attention on the tomato I’m cutting for the salad, trying like hell to not cut my finger off.  That’s sure to put a damper on the evening. 

I finally regain the strength to finish preparing our meal, set the table and bring Kylee into the formal dining room.  Thanks to Misty, my housekeeper, the tall taper candles are set up around the center of the table with a fresh vase of flowers directly in the middle.  Once Kylee’s sitting in her chair, I light the candles and take my seat at the opposite end.

“Why are you all the way down there?” Kylee asks, giggling her soft feminine laugh that hits me right in the gut.  I want to be close to her, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last without having my hands all over her.

“You’re my guest of honor, and it’s only right that you sit in that seat.”  Her face drops with my answer and everything in me screams to switch up the seating arrangement, but I don’t want to be too presumptuous. 

“Just feels a little formal, that’s all.”  She cuts into her chicken with the fork and puts a small piece into her mouth. The carefree, fun Kylee is gone, replaced by a woman I’ve
never met before.  Even her posture changes, no longer lounging in her chair, she’s sitting upright like there’s a stick taped to her spine and a book sitting on her head.

“Hey.  What’s wrong?”  I’m out of my chair and sitting directly next to her in the blink of an eye.  Whatever I’ve done to take away my Kylee, I want to fix it and fix it fast.

“Reminds me of home,” she mutters, not making eye contact. 

I take her hand in mine, urging her to look at me.  When she makes no move to turn her head, I place my forefinger and thumb around her chin and lightly encourage her to face me.  Once our eyes meet, I can see the sadness behind her deep forest greens staring back at me.

“Ky, please tell me,” I whisper.  I don’t want to push the issue or bring up bad memories for her, but in order for me not to make this mistake again, I have to know.  With the exception of the partial barrier that exists because I’ve broken her trust, I can see the rest of the brick walls rebuilding themselves in front of me.

“It really doesn’t matter.  Let’s just go back to enjoying our dinner,” Kylee says, faking a smile and turning back to her plate.

“No, let’s talk.  What did I do?  We were fine and then we sit down to eat and everything changes.  If it’s about the seating, I can move down here or you up there.  It doesn’t matter.  I just need to know what is going on in that head of yours.”  After my plea, the sadness turns to anger when she snaps her head back in my direction. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, okay
?  This has nothing to do with you.  Please just go sit back in your chair and let’s finish eating.  I have some things to do tonight and I want to eat and spend a little time with you before I have to leave.” 
Leave?  What the fuck?
  We didn’t discuss our evening plans, but I didn’t expect her to eat and run. 

“I’m not dropping this, Kylee.  Something is going on and you can talk to me.  You said this reminds you of home.  What does that mean?  I don’t understand.”

“Okay, you want the hardcore truth, Jacoby?  You want me to lay it bare?”  Kylee slams her fork down on the table, stands and walks to the window.  I want to go to her, comfort her, but I know she’ll just push me away … again.  Kylee’s now perched at the top her ivory tower, not letting me get anywhere near the real her.  I have to break through, I just have to.

“Yes, Kylee.
  Talk to me.  Please,” I beg.

“This dinner is wonderful, but it can’t happen again.  We can’t be anything more that fuck buddies.  That means no dinners, no dates
and no sleepovers—nothing more than sex.  If you can’t deal with that, I’m sorry, but we can’t do this anymore.”  It feels like a knife cuts right though my heart.  Of all the things she could’ve said, that is the one thing that I wish she would take back.

Watching her body
language—crossed arms, pursed lips and a scowl written all over her face—I have to play this a certain way.  I’m going to have to remain indifferent if I’m going to have any chance of breaking back through.  I have to treat this like any other business decision – cool, calm and collected – that isn’t going my way. That’s the only way to tackle this, especially since my kind, romantic side isn’t doing anything but pushing her further away.

“Care to explain why?  I can’t cook for you, take you out in public or spend the night with you?  That seems pretty immature, wouldn’t you say,
Kylee
?”  It breaks my heart to talk to her like this when she’s so visibly upset, but I’m at a loss in this situation.

“Remember that little stint in your office earlier?” 
Like I could forget.
  “I needed to do that.  I needed to show you that’s all we can be.”

“I’m not following.  You needed to ambush me at my place of business and fuck me to prove a point?” 
Kylee’s all over the place; pacing all around the dining room.  She takes her wine glass, refills it and then drinks more than half in one swallow.  Something tells me this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I have a child.  This goes much further than that.

“I’m the girl you fuck when you need to get off.  I’m the one that’s a good time and you can always call to put out.  I’m the girl that you don’t forget.  More importantly, I’m the girl that isn’t sitting
home waiting for you to get home from fucking whoever you’d rather fuck than me.”  Kylee slumps her body over the top of the captain chair, breathing heavily like a burden’s just been lifted.

“So I’m
cheating
on you?  You need to make sense of this, Kylee.  I’m so fucking lost.”  I run my hands through my hair, pulling at the base so I don’t lash out and pull hers, demanding an answer, or
answers
in this case.

“It’s always the same thing, Jacoby.  One man is no different from another.  It’s all about the chase and the fucking game.”  Kylee walks into the kitchen, searching all of my cabinets.  I don’t know what she’s looking for until she pulls out a bottle of gin. 

“What game?” I scream, taking the bottle out of her hand.  She’s had a glass and a half of wine and I swear on everything I love, we’re having this discussion because we have to and not because she gets loose-lipped when she’s drunk.  This is happening.

“Don’t play coy, Jacoby.  There’s always a game.  You chase the girl until she gives in and then there’s nothing left but monotony.  You take her on dates, you woo her, you make her feel like she’s special and then
bam
she’s your girlfriend.  She leaves a toothbrush in your bathroom, hoping you notice and don’t tell her to take it back.  Then it’s clothes here and there, DVD’s and then she has the password to your computer.”  The scowl is gone.  In its place is that sarcastic “I know everything about everything” look.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”  The veins in the side of my neck are bound to burst at any time.  It’s been a very long time since I’ve been this frustrated or angry with anyone.  It’s like she’s pushing any button she can get her dainty little fingers on.
 
Twenty seven’s too young for a stroke, right?

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.  It goes down the same way every time.  No matter what the relationship status of a couple is, once there’s a fucking status, the game is gone and so is the fun.  After you move in together, the woman is sitting at home waiting for the man to come home smelling like
cheap perfume and raunchy pussy,” Kylee yells in maybe two breaths.  She’s heated and ready to blow.